His first thought as he picked it up was that it had been put there by one of the neighbours. But as he let himself inside, it struck him as odd that on the label that was stuck to it there were just three words written with a black marker:

FOR DETECTIVE WALKER

He took the parcel through to the kitchen and placed it on the table. Curiosity compelled him to open it before doing anything else.

He tore off the wrapping and lifted the lid of the cardboard box. What was inside gave him such a shock that an involuntary gasp erupted from his mouth and he jumped back in horror. In the process, his hand struck the edge of the box and knocked it onto the floor.

A wave of revulsion swept through him as he stared down at the object that rolled out. It was a large, blood-soaked bird that was clearly dead.

James tried to swallow but couldn’t, and for several moments he just stood there while a pulse thundered in his temples.

He noticed that the bottom of the box was lined with clingfilm, presumably to hold in the blood.

‘Why the fuck would someone do this?’ he said aloud to himself.

After the shock wore off, he took a deep breath and knelt down to see if there was anything else in the upended box. But there wasn’t. However, when he stood again he spotted something attached by Sellotape to the underside of the lid. It was a Christmas card wrapped in clingfilm, and on the front of it were images from the carol The Twelve Days of Christmas.

James always carried a pair of latex gloves in his jacket pocket, so he put them on before reaching for the card, aware that he should have done so before opening the box in the first place.

He used the tips of his fingers to peel away the Sellotape and flick the card open. There was no seasonal greeting printed inside. Instead, someone had scrawled a message that caused the air to lock in James’s chest.

Here’s a Christmas gift for you, detective Walker. It’s a little early, I know, but I just couldn’t wait. My very own take on the twelve days of Christmas, complete with a dead partridge. Twelve days. Twelve murders. Twelve victims. And they all deserve what’s coming to them.

CHAPTER TWO

Annie was struggling to hold back the tears, and her insides were churning with mixed emotions. But she wasn’t at all surprised. It was how she usually reacted when she watched a primary school nativity play.

She loved seeing Mary drop baby Jesus, the narrator stumble over his or her words, and the angels giggle amongst themselves because they had no real understanding of what was going on. It was all so touching and hilarious.

But along with the joy there was always a sense of despondency and regret because none of the children on the little stage belonged to her.